the dial hums halfway between proselytic gibberish and the morning news
and i hear childhood in the din of interfering conversation.
i found a foothold once
at a place i’ve come to stare many times but each one so other than this
confused blossoms soaked in should-be snow –
oh how there should be snow goddamnit
– splashing in explicable formation to whom and whim and in time to some
on soot gray reverse of pallid sky
and i unfold my eyes to see morse braille algebra
and i unfold my black umbrella to mourn.
i found a foothold once
in the concrete lines loving in tangible goals
and i am losing my weightlessness now to ice
forming unforming forming unforming
shattering against bulwark blown to dust
by that sad angry gleeful god chance.
i slept through judgment day. i rested against my will
and the dial hums halfway between proselytic gibberish and the morning news –
on the other side of the pane
hollow eyes hollow eyes
those ugly ugly bleeding lines
– and i hear childhood in the din of interfering conversation.
Photography by: Yohan Marion on Unsplash
